


i love you like an angel loves god, like a nightingale loves the rose

by saernamaz



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff and Angst, I don't know where this will go, I'll tag characters as they appear - Freeform, M/M, and they never forgot each other, basically au where claude and dimitri met before gmm times, but hey, dimitri's pov here!!, for now they just have baby crushes on each other, i'm a major softie so it's just fluff, they'll become teens eventually lol, this is a general fic for now whoops !!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20456270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saernamaz/pseuds/saernamaz
Summary: 'Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scatteredThe reveries that once were mineAnd I forgot your soothing accents,Your features gracefully divine.'- A. S. PushkinDimitri knew that boy, he was sure of it. His voice echoed in his mind, fantoms of a softer time. He could still trace his features with his eyes closed, in the darkest night, and even blind. He acted like a stranger, and yet Dimitri knew him. He could recognize him by the sounds of his feet on the wooden floor, just by the soft swing of his hair or by his emerauld eyes. His heart tighten by thinking of him and his mind grew silent, freed of hatred and angst.





	1. amaranthine madness

_Fhirdiad, 1168_

Dimitri did not like the agitation. Above else, he did not like being pampered like he currently was. The waltz of women around him, touching him all over, undressing and dressing him up repeatedly in an endless tango of colorful clothes and bare milky skin, painting his face as if he was a doll. It made his head spin. He longed to go out and play with his friends, but his dad insisted that he be present to welcome their estimated guests. **Protocol was a strict, boring thing**.

He was but a child, after all. Five years of age, and no idea of politics, war and noble matters. Why he was summoned to hail them was beyond him. And he did not understand why everyone made such a fuss about receiving them. The angst and uneasiness were so thick in the capital that even his father, usually so cool and composed seemed absent minded and hypercritical this day. He guessed the nobles must be important.

A knock on his bedroom’s door pulled him out of his silent brooding and caused the maids to promptly stop in their tracks. His father appeared in the threshold, eyeing him, a glint of anxiety in his icy eyes. A soft smiled graced his face when he met Dimitri’s gaze.

‘Why the angry face, boy? Are you not happy to see the Ashrafs again?’

Again? Dimitri did not know them, he was certain of it. He did not recall meeting any other noble than the Gautiers, the Fraldarius’ or the Galateas. The name felt weird in his father’s month. It did not sound Faerghusian. It did not sound Fodlian, even.

‘I do not know them, Father.’

‘You just do not recall meeting them, son. You were far too young to remember. Just a toddler. They came to welcome you into this world. The pin you so adore and always adorn your hair with is a gift from them.’

‘Well, they have taste. They are fine craftsmen.’ His father chuckled, a light and soft sound in the oppressing silence of the room.

‘You can tell them that when they arrive this evening.’ Lambert’s eyes scanned the maids, who slowly and silently got back to composing an outfit fit for a crown prince. ‘I can see you’re in good hands. Please make sure he is ready for supper. I believe our guests will arrive as the sun descents.’

The maids nodded and bowed, just as the king left the room, leaving Dimitri yet alone in this amaranthine madness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, thank you for passing by!!! 
> 
> i hope my take on child-child dimitri is not too out of character. i decided to make him a kind of bratty, but very well mannered and nice kid. i think i made him more serious and grounded then his video game younger self, but let's pu tthat on the fact that he's a moody five year old who likes his privacy and doesn't know how to act arpund strangers ay
> 
> anyway, claumitri nation, this is for you.


	2. meeting at sunset

_Fhirdiad, 1168_

The Ashrafs arrived just as the sun started to disappear behind the mountains. The massive cohort of brightly colored wyverns and horsemen made the earth shake and the clouds shiver. It was an astonishing scene for Dimitri, to see them arrive and to guess their silhouettes in the fog.

Soon, he could picture the first roads of knight, with their bows and axes. Riders adorned exotic, brightly colored clothing, with huge capes and turbans to protect them of the Faerghusian cold and snowstorm. The yellow of their garbs clashed with the misty grey of the horizon, almost making them more fantastic than real. They seemed to float, as they so gracefully mounted their brown horses and white wyverns. They seemed to be straight out of a chivalry book Ingrid loved so much.

They paraded in the city, proudly raising their banner – a mounted archer – and toddling off towards the castle. from the castle’s balcony, Dimitri watched the scene, awe in his eyes. His father was stern next to him, calculating and kingly. Finally, when the royal carriage arrived at the gates of the castle, his father nudged him towards the throne room, where they were to wait for the guests. **How much of a joy-killer protocol was**! Dimitri now only wished to watch the knights prance for another hour, see the wyverns fly high and the townspeople cheer on the spectacle.

But he followed his father, excited and admirative. If the knights were this graceful and strong, he could not wait to meet the nobles that commanded them. Triumphant trumpets signaled that the Ashrafs were to penetrate the throne room. The king stood, and his son confidently immitted him. The massive golden gates opened, and a suite of seven people entered the room, all wearing golden and smooth tunics, adorned with jewelry and embroideries. Their outfits were nothing like Dimitri ever saw. Long tunics that resembled dresses, tight colorful legging to cover their lean legs, strange shoes that seemed to point inwards at the end, and well as long capes, who looked thin and silky, and not furry and soft.

The head of the procession bowed, followed by the six other persons. The king of Faerghus nodded his head, and the cortege straightened, facing the king as equals. Dimitri let his gaze wander, taking in every detail about the strangers. Their colors, their subtly different manners and behaviors, their faint unfamiliar odor. Everything was so new to him, and he felt the need to touch the fabrics, to paint the memory in his mind and to listen to their every story.

Eventually, his curious eyes paused on a small figure – a child, about his age, silently standing near a pale woman, a hand on his hip, who was scanning the room too. Their eyes met and they mutely stared at one another. The small brown-skinned boy’s eyes lit up with something Dimitri could not precisely translate. Glee? Mischief? Friendliness? He frowned, and the other boy just grinned at him from afar. What a weird boy he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've decided to base almyra on iran and morocco (where im from lol). 
> 
> also, since i don't know much about islam and zoroastrianism, i've decided to make almyra's main religion a copy of judaism (tbh, claude's dialogue about religious ceremonies in almyra can be interpreted as jewish celebrations so!!). 
> 
> i'm mainly basing my almyrian clothes on anciant persia's kings' war outfits since almyrians are renowned fighters (https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e0/Ancient_Times%2C_Persian._-_007_-_Costumes_of_All_Nations_%281882%29.JPG)
> 
> lots of love


	3. a moment lost in time

_Fhirdiad, 1168_

The adults left them to play in his room as they tended to kingdom affairs. Dimitri sat on his bed, judging the kid standing before him. He still had a smirk on his rosy lips, even in the awkward silence. He swayed gently and played with his braided hair, surely waiting for a sign that he could go away and play elsewhere or sit next to the ice kingdom prince. Dimitri was not sure what to say. He liked his privacy, but he did not want to be rude and send the boy away.

‘You can sit on my bed if you want.’

The other boy leaped at the boy and landed next to him on the bed with a huge noise and a gasp. Redness creeped its way to the younger boy’s cheeks, embarrassed by his peer’s childish behavior. The other must have noticed the reprimanding gaze and just chuckled.

‘Come on, we’re alone. You can relax and have fun. I won’t tell daddy.’

‘I know how to have fun, but I do not desire to play like this. This is childish and immature.’

‘You’re a child, princeliness. Might as well behave like one, don’t you think?’

‘We were not raised to behave this way, no. We like to play knights and princesses, not to jump around like savages.’

The other boy seemed hurt by the comment for a minute, his cheeky demeanor faded for an instant, a hint of pain and sadness replacing the mischief in his eyes. Dimitri felt bad for a moment. He did not intend to hurt his new ‘friend’ and noble guest at that. But it quickly disappeared, and the child gave him a playful grin.

‘Then teach me how you play here. So I can be civilized and not embarrass you again.’

Dimitri felt the underlined sarcasm and veiled reprimand in his tone. He felt ludicrous for his lack of tact. His father lectured him about cultural differences and how it was not correct to mock them, and he did exactly that with an important figure of his father’s circle’s son. Wordlessly, he stood up and stretched out his hand towards the boy.

‘Come. We will play in the courtyard with my friends.’

The other boy eagerly took his hand and Dimitri pulled him up. They silently made their way to the courtyard, in a small garden area. In this time of year, the sun was set, and the moon was their only source of light. It did not stop the children of the court to come and play here. Among the shambles of the yard, where children were chasing after one another with makeshift shields and sticks as swords, screaming and laughing, Dimitri spotted three familiar faces and hastened towards them, firmly grasping the foreign noble’s hand.

‘Oh, hi Dimitri! Did you come to play with us?’, an older, redhaired boy cheered. ‘Oh, and who might that be?’

The two other children stopped sword fighting with their wood sticks and turned towards the newly arrived duo. Dimitri suddenly realized that he was incapable of presenting his companion, and he turned towards him as well, quietly prompting him to introduce himself.

‘My name is Kalid. Although, Claude might be easier to pronounce in Fodlian. Thus, you can call me Claude. I’m the son of the Almaryian king and heir of house Ashraf. And who are you?’

The oldest chuckled and bowed before the smaller boy.

‘Your Highness. I’m but your humble servant and hopefully your brother-in-law, might you have a sister of some sort.’

The Almaryian prince grinned at the display. The small blonde girl hit the boy with her stick and reprimanded him, lecturing him about how inappropriate it was to speak to a prince in such manners and to make a move on a woman this way. Claude did not look insulted, Dimitri noted, but seemed to enjoy seeing his elder in such a position.

‘I am so very sorry, your Highness.’, the small blonde girl spoke. ‘Sylvain is nothing but a boor. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us and the nobles of Faerghus. We did not mean to insult you or to unfortunate you. My name is Ingrid Brandl Galatea, it is an honor to meet you. And the boy next to me is Felix Faldarius. Please excuse him, he’s a bit shy around strangers.’

‘No offense was taken, no need to apologize. I don’t have a sister anyway. And no need to address me so formally. I wish to be your friend, so you can call me Claude, and I’ll call you Ingrid. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.’

‘Did you come to play with us?’, Sylvain genuinely inquired. ‘We were playing knights and princesses! It’s a popular game here, every child here plays the same game, but our stories are always the best and most romantic!’

‘Sure. I don’t know many chivalry legends, but I’ll do my best. Who can I play?’

‘You can play the princess.’, Dimitri suggested. ‘You just have to wait for us knight to deliver you from Sylvain. You can be as dramatic as you want this way.’

‘Cool. I’m fine with that. I hope you’ll rescue me Dimitri. So we can be king and queen together and ban Sylvain in the darkness of the night.’

The Almaryian boy gave him a genuine smile, before changing his stance so that he was dramatically gasping, a hand on his forehead, already indulging himself in his damsel in distress role. It was the impulse needed for the children to begin to play and laugh together, until Felix, Ingrid and Dimitri finally defeated Sylvain and saved the princess. They laughed and played well into the night, until they were the only ones left in the courtyard, unknowingly watched by their parents from the conference room’s balcony.

**Protocol was forgotten**. Replaced by children’s fantasies and a fake marriage between an Almaryian princess held captive and a valiant knight with blonde hair. And a sentiment of peace and tenderness in their parents’ hearts, forgetting about the incoming war with Sreng for just a moment lost in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm soft for kiddy crushes.
> 
> claude is a little more genuine as a child because a) no assasination attempts yet but b) he is treated as an outsider for what he is (half fodlian) but c) he's a child and doesn't really understand what racism is
> 
> if that makes sense aaaaa


	4. golden colored pins

_Fhirdiad, 1168_

It has been a week since the Almaryian court arrived in Fhirdiad. The respective kings of both kingdoms talked and negotiated a war every afternoons, trying to come to terms with resources and men to send to the fronts. Almyra was to start a naval war on the east coast and push the Sreng forces south, so that the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus could launch a prompt offensive against the disorganized hostile army. Almyra considered the plan to be smart, but too risky for them. They could lose a lot of troops, if they were to fail a maneuver and they only accepted to meet with Lambert to be support allies, and not to launch a large-scale invasion and offensive. The Sreng never directly threatened Almyra, and they essentially only participated so they could start a maritime trade route with the north of the Kingdom. Considering their feud with the Alliance, they could not lend a full army on the spot. If Faerghus wanted to war with Sreng to be quick and swift, they had to accept that Almyra could only dispatch a few soldiers, not enough to provoke an army and making them draw back.

Eventually a comprise was found. Almyra was to attack Sreng from the air and shower them with arrows for a week, before the Kingdom’s forces could march and defeat the rest of the army.

Dimitri was saddened to learn that the Almyrian royal family was to depart in two days. Over the days, he started to grow fond of Claude and his numerous pranks, cheeky remarks and jokes. He enjoyed his company and he enjoyed seeing him so carefree and always so playful. He was a bright sunshine in Fhirdiad’s cold and morose days.

Ingrid, Sylvain and Felix too seemed wistful at the idea of letting their new playmate leave. Almyra was so very far away, Ingrid told him. It was a two days ride until the coast, where they had to sail for a week before reaching the Almyrian coast. They would not see Claude for a very long time, if ever.

Dimitri realized he would also miss Claude’s mother, who was always so kind to him and who acted like a mother. It was nice to have a motherly figure to cry to when he hurt himself playing or to talk to when he had a bizarre child question to ask. She would never reprimand him for asking foolish question or for crying out loud, like his father would.

And strangely enough, he would miss Claude’s father’s booming laughter echoing through the hallways when him and Lambert drank away their night, after exhausting talks. Claude’s father sometimes played with them and took his role as the villain so seriously that the little knights never once rescued princess Sylvain of house Gautier. He also showed the Kingdom children some games they liked to play in Almyra, picking up his son and throwing him in the airs, higher and higher, until he nearly did not catch his son. Dimitri almost had a heart attack, but laughed along, when Claude did so, seemingly having genuine fun at the idea of risking his life by doing complicated tricks in the air.

He was scared he would forget them, and the memories that were associated with them. And that Claude would forget him too. He was determined not to forget them and to not let Claude forget him. And so, he asked Sylvain for some advices. The older boy cooed and proposed that he bought him a matching gift, so they could always think of the others when looking at it. He added that this was how he got the stable girl to kiss him one day, by buying her a necklace that matched his own. And although she sold it for 300 crowns, their love was infinite, or so he said. Overall, the idea was not bad, and Dimitri had no other, so a day before the departure, he went to the marketplace and carefully searched for a gift to offer to his foreign friend.

Ultimately, after hours of exploration in quest of the perfect gift, his eyes fell on a beautiful golden pin, that kind of resembled his own. It was the work of a renown craftsman, known for his precision and unrivaled talent for forging flower-like shape. Content with his discover, he promptly bought it and asked for it to be neatly wrapped. On his way back, he picked some flowers to offer to the queen, proud of his delicate attention. He gave them to her as soon as he came home, and nothing mattered more to him at this instant than the queen’s soft smile and her praise. She gently patted his head and thanked him for the gift, before wishing him a good night and rejoin her husband in the conference room.

His deed done, Dimitri walked towards Claude’s room, anticipation making his cheeks redden. Would the Almyrian appreciate his gift? All Dimitri could think about right now was Claude’s reaction. He hopped he would smile, for Claude had a very nice smile, the blonde thought. He softly knocked on the door, and a cheerful ‘come in’ answered him. He coyly entered Claude’s room, to find him at his vanity, tending to his hair, carefully braiding it for the night. He was already in his night clothes, Dimitri noted, a bit disappointed at the idea that he would not come to play with them tonight.

‘Oh, hello Dimitri. Did you need something?’

‘Yes. I… I came to give you this.’

The child carefully approached the other and handed his gift, wrapped in a baby blue paper. Claude’s month formed a surprised ‘oh’ and he hesitantly took the gift. He was cautious in his every gesture and eyed the present with a fond expression.

‘Gifts… are not very common in Almyra. Unprompted gifts at least. I feel ashamed, knowing I did not get you anything.’

‘Don’t be. Open it!’

Claude carefully bared the gift and his face lit up when he saw the little pin. He turned to Dimitri, who gave him a bright, toothy smile and pointed to his own pin, that he proudly wore in his long hair.

‘We have matching pins now! This way, you can never forget me, and I won’t forget you!’

‘Dimitri, I love it. Thank you. It’s gorgeous. Ooh, I’ll wear it every day! To honor the bound that links us!’

The Almaryian slowly rose to face Dimitri and smiled at him, the most genuine smile the young prince ever saw his friend adorn. In the candlelit room, time was no more for a moment, and it seemed that they lost themselves in the other’s eyes. The silence was agreeable, lulling both kids into its security and loving embrace. Claude took his hands in his and softly kissed his knuckles.

‘**I believe this is the protocol here, right? How chivalrous**!’

Dimitri laughed and sat on his friend’s – could they call themselves friends? It seemed so in this instant – bed. The other soon joined him, and they chatted peacefully, watched by the stars and the radiant moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> precious kids precious kids precious kids !!! 
> 
> ft geopolitical analysis of a fictional land lol


	5. frigid ennui

_Galatea, 1171_

The snow fell heavy in the mountains, as it had been for the past week. Being cloistered in the small castle was not how Dimitri pictured spending his vacations, especially his first vacations outside of Fhirdiad. His father had sent him to Galatea, to waste his rest to the cold of the frigid land. Even surrounded by his three closest friends, his time here was disastrous. Ingrid was often requisitioned by her father, Count Galatea to be bred into the perfect little wife, a thing she despised more than anything. More often than ever, Dimitri was left alone with Sylvain and Felix. But Sylvain had decided that the women working in this stone prison were far more interesting than the two ten-year-old, and he withdrew from the children anytime he could. Felix was a rude company, and he did not like to play anymore. He grew up to be like his brother Glenn, a cynical and sarcastic youth. The young duke only ever had insults to spare him now.

Dimitri was lonely, estrangled by time. The cruel dictator that never seemed to slow down, and that adjudged that Dimitri was to slowly die of boredom. Many times, he picked up a feather and began to write to his father, begging him to come fetch him. But always, he discarded the paper and went back to quietly watching the snow fall on the bare, empty, hungry fields.

Eventually, Count Galatea impromptuously decided to send the four young nobles behind the tall mountains, in Alliances territories, to his cousin’s court. In two days, luggage was charged into a wooden, massive boat, and their owners with them, departing for Daphnel. The sierra was impassable by horses, albeit the decision to sail across the great red sea. Dimitri’s gaze longed at the massive mountains at the very far horizon. Fodlan’s Throat, he heard a sailor whisper to him when he inquired what those mountains were, the natural, divine protection against Almyrian savages. His fingers caressed his golden pin, which now attached his liberty blue cape. His mind wandered off to the small sun-kissed boy he met an eternity ago, and he wondered what he was doing in Almyra, if he was running around, if he was climbing trees, if he was riding a wyvern. If he wore his pin too.

Soon, the sea was no more, and the boat sailed across a small river. Golden fields greeted them, rich with wheat and sunflowers. Despite being separated by small mountains, Daphnel and Galatea did not resemble each other. Galatea was a cold and oppressing region, where Daphnel seemed to flourish and to be blessed with an eternal spring.

‘They are sending us to Daphnel because they have food.’, Ingrid once mused. Galatea was victim to a great famine, that even affected the meager nobles. They could not risk endangering the heirs’ lives, and their valuable crests, and so, they sent them to a foreign land, in a stranger’s home. **Such was the protocol, to protect valuable items at all cost**. Dimitri sure felt like an item to discard and to abandon for the summer. He longed to be with his father again.

Apprehension built is the children’s throat as the boat came to a stop at a makeshift harbor. Sailors unloaded their belongings and carefully put them in the minimalist, bright yellow carriage that awaited them. Their designated chaperone, Duke Rodrigue, Felix’s father, urged them to climb aboard, talking about the Hero of Daphnel’s patience had its very limits.

‘Who is the Hero of Daphnel?’, Dimitri catechized, partially out of curiosity, and partially for his own entertainment.

‘Lady Judith of Daphnel, your friend’s Ingrid distant relative, and former member of the Leicester council. She is a fierce warrior, whose military exploits are unparalleled in the Alliance. She is the leading Commander of Alliance troops and a strategic genius.’

‘She seemed right out of a chivalry tale! How exciting! To think that I am related to such a woman is an honor.’

‘Do you still desire to become a knight, Ingrid?’, Rodrigue asked, a soft smile dancing on his face.

‘Of course! I want to protect the King and the royal family with my life. I want tales about me. I want to honor my homeland and protect the destitute.’

Rodrigue nodded, fondly patting her on the head. Ingrid’s dreams of chivalry were endearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm adding a few more chapters because i just KNOW i won't be able to write as much as i want to with school. snif, why did i chose a school that gave us homework for the holidays, i'm a disaster.
> 
> anyway !!! welcome to the world of edgy ten year old boys who just want to be free from royal duties such as listening to gilbert teach you about duscur and sreng and fodlan or going skiing in the alps
> 
> the great famine of galatea/faerghus is an actual historical fact of fodlan by the way :)


	6. wild winds

_Daphnel, 1171_

Daphnel was an imposing city, surrounded by tall defensive walls, remnants of the bastion it once was during the Crescent Moon War. The castle, which was slightly above the rest of the city, rest up on the hilltop, was just as stringent as the city was, with dark stones and grand facades. Dimitri felt small and vulnerable, at the foothill of it.

The turmoil that shook Daphnel’s castle contrasted greatly with its stern appearance. Every servant was running around in the main courtyard, turning every stone, clearly alarmed. Among the chaos, a tall woman stood, an infuriated air floating around her. Dimitri could almost hear her sigh. Despite the unrest, she seemed to notice them arrive and slowly approached them. Everything about her seemed nonchalant, at first sight, if it was not for her distress eyes. She bowed, a small nod of the head and put a small lock of hair behind her ear, trying to regain a calm composure.

‘You really arrived at the worst of time, my apologies your Highnesses. You’re not the only kids I have to babysit this summer, I have another tornado to look after, but he is set on making my job more difficult than I intended. I’ll fetch you some servants in a moment, but in the meantime, please feel free to walk around or to settle in the castle. Just, please, always tell someone where you’re going and with whom, it would save us massive researches like this one.’

And on that, she left the stopped carriage to go run around with the others. Sylvain chuckled lightly next to him.

‘I already like this kid. He sounds like a wild case.’

Rodrigue gave him a stern look, which was meant to be a silent admonition, but Sylvain did not notice it, too busy scanning the area for women. They stayed there in silence for a few minutes, hemmed in the chaos of the research. Dimitri soon grew bored and climbed out of the car, wallowing in the sight before him. It was entertaining to watch all these figures run around and talk in hushed whispers. He started to walk amid the ambient pandemonium, letting his feet drive him where they wanted.

His feet guided him to a recluse area, where great big trees danced with the sun. He felt detached from everything he incarnated, in this strange moment of calm. He was just a boy here. **No duty, no crest, he felt free and for the first time in a long time, at peace**. He stood there in silence, watching the leaves sway gently with the verdant wind.

Suddenly, he sensed a warm hand on his shoulder, which strongly gripped at his shoulder. Before he could turn around, he felt a heavy load fall on him and push him to the ground from above.

‘Gottcha!’

Dimitri left a distressed scream escape his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love judith omg, she's so done with claude's shenanigans, and i want more of their relationship ok
> 
> note: the crescent moon war is the leicester alliance's independance war from the kingdom


	7. oath of the pin

_Daphnel, 1171_

The five children were standing in the main room, a large room with large windows, soberly decorated with house Daphnel’s colors and portraits of deceased ancestors. In front of them stood Judith, a scold on her face, and a tall, imposing man with pink scars on his face, who was clearly trying to hide a grin.

‘Boy, how many times do we have to tell you not to pull these pranks on us. You know your mother would have killed me if she learnt we truly lost you.’

The boy smirked. ‘I’m sorry, Judith.’

‘You are expected to call me Lady Judith. You’re no king nor leader.’

‘I’m sorry, _Lady_ Judith.’

He spoke with such off-handedness that Dimitri was almost tempted to laugh out loud. The irony dripped from his every word, making the giant of a man next to Judith snicker. The boy’s smile was nothing but proud of this reaction, the prince noted. The Hero of Daphnel sighed and brought her hand to her forehand, massaging it roughly.

‘Nader, please tend to your child yourself, he’s a hurricane and I can not deal with him right now and greet the others. Please take him to his room.’

‘As you wish, m’Lady.’

The tall man – Nader – bowed and trotted towards the young boy, and unceremoniously lift the boy in the air to carry him on his shoulder like a vulgar sack. The kid seemed to be more amused than anything and laughed brightly, a sound that made Dimitri’s heart falter.

‘Oh! You have a nice pin by the way!’, the other boy squealed from his perch. ‘It matches mine!’

The prince’s head snapped towards the boy, who winked at him. His mouth opened slightly, aghast. His thoughts raced, in a wild tango of memories, as he watched as the chaotic duo exit the room.

_Claude_.

How he changed in four years. He seemed older, his face had already lost the roundness of childhood for soft and sharp features. His hair was shorter, messier, a sea of chestnut curls atop a lush mind, with only two small braids framing his face, as a reminder of the long braid he wore as a child. Dimitri remembered braiding his hair with Sylvain, and the softness of his hair, his faint perfume of vanilla, all memories of him were submerging the prince in an instant. He was wallowed in his recollections, the greeting speech of Judith just a dim whisper.

_Claude_.

Dimitri’s mind was nothing but his name. **A breath of fresh air, of freedom in his life**. His vacations were no more a frigid torture, but a warm joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *to hildas victory tune* NADER NADER !!!
> 
> my boy claude is still a disaster, but a grownup, smooth disaster, who clearly doesnt fear for his life


	8. the secret of nature

_Daphnel, 1171_

Ingrid stood diligently near her prince, who was trying to reproduce the gymnastic tricks the little Almyrian tried to teach him. More often than not, Dimitri would fail and plummet, while his companion laughed. But Ingrid, always so cautious about details, could see the faintest worry in his kelly eyes and by the way he so promptly extended his arm for him to take. She took her role as a knight very seriously, despite her young age. She knew being a knight was her only escape to the closeted life her father drew for her. The young girl was determined to be the best knight of the court, and thus, she trained hard.

‘Come on, Your Highness, you can do it!’, Claude cheered, as the blonde boy stood up from his fall.

Ingrid smiled softly as Dimitri took the boy’s hand and got up, an expression of sheer determination on his roundish face. Claude showed him the pose again, feet slightly separated, his strong foot leading the way, and hands raised high above his head. Dimitri mirrored his friend’s posture and smiled at him. If you asked Ingrid, Claude seemed to have gained some redness to his cheeks, tactfully hidden by his naturally darker skin. The Almyrian youth smiled back, before letting his upper body fall forward, gracefully executing his cartwheel. The girl applauded and cheerfully congratulated him, for a yet again, perfectly performed art. He jokingly bowed for the audience, his familiar grin on his face. Dimitri seemed amazed by his friend’s performance, but quickly regained his composure. Without further hesitation, Dimitri launched himself, and managed to pull off a precise and well executed figure himself.

The joy on his face made the two other kids blush with pride and fondness. Ingrid enthusiastically cheered for her lord, praising him for his hard work and skills. Claude stayed still for a moment, gaze longing on Dimitri. Finally, he squealed and threw himself at Dimitri’s neck, embracing him warmly. The young prince was slightly taken aback by the gesture, but he returned his hug as hearty as his peer. They laughed in each other’s neck, lost in the euphoria of the moment. Ingrid watched fondly and joined their hug, which they immediately returned.

‘Kalid, boy! Where are you?’, echoed Nader’s booming voice in the yard. Claude slowly broke away from the hug and watched his friends, a disappointed smile on his face. ‘Whoops, duty is calling! If you still want to play tonight, maybe I can teach you too Ingrid!’

‘I would love too, Your Highness.’

Claude made a dissatisfied noise, clicking his tongue against his palate, but his smile was sardonic.

‘_Claude_.’

The boy seemed satisfied with her answer and waved them goodbye, before running towards the castle, shouting that he was coming to the windows. His voice was not as loud as Nader’s and Ingrid was curtained only the knights at the gates heard his high-pitched clamor. Ingrid turned to her prince, an invitation to play knights on the tip of her tongue, but the adoring way with which the boy was watching the little silhouette wait for the guards to open the gates for him stopped her in her tracks. She had seen that gaze before, in her own reflection when she was to meet Glenn’s eyes, a gaze soft and enamored, holding the purest sentiment in the world and the secret of nature.

_Love_.

‘Dimitri?’, she softly said, as to not roughly bring him out of his loving daze. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes… Yes, I am fine, thank you Ingrid.’

She chuckled, but without a trace of mockery. ‘You seemed lost in thought. Are you disappointed he left?’

Dimitri blushed, clearly embarrassed to have been so easily analyzed. He wore his feelings on his sleeve, Ingrid thought. He was a passionate young man, an open book of some sort when it came to feelings. He felt everything strongly than anyone else. His feelings were a cascade, hard and powerful, sculpting his face in the matter of seconds.

‘It is not that I do not enjoy your company, please never think this, but… I… Can I speak candidly to you? I feel so at peace with him next to me, I forget everything, sometimes even my own name, lost in these moments with him. I cherish his presence so dearly, that each time my heart falters and dances. I feel as if I knew him for an eternity, he grew so familiar to me…’

Always the poet, the knight thought. Dimitri seemed very interested by love poems these days, so Ingrid was not that surprised by his wording. If anything, she deeply valued his vocabulary. But in this case, perhaps was there an easier way to translate his monologue.

‘You love him.’

‘Of course, I do!’

‘I meant to say that you love him… as I love Glenn. Earnest love. You love him as fondly as the nightingale loves the rose.’

‘Does that mean that my heart beats so fast because it wants to be joined to his?’

‘And so much more. Your heart wants nothing more but to be one with him.’

Dimitri blushed. But he was not uncomfortable. If anything, he was smiling brightly, **free of doubts and hesitations**. Ingrid smiled too, and took his hand in hers, a comforting gesture, a way to accompany him into acceptance, as Seiros once took her followers’ hands to drive them towards sainthood and holiness.

‘Nothing would make me happier to be your sword, and to protect you and your love with my very life.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ingrid's pov here... so she can play matchmaker and be dimitri's personal love translator <33 she loves her soft kiddos and she Knows what is up. 
> 
> this chapter was so soft to write,,, their relationship is so soft,,, intsys let them be happy please. by the way, i headcanon that considering all the books he read, especially tales and fairytales, dimitri must be quite the poet, i love his tender side sigh


	9. sunset on almyra

_Daphnel, 1171_

From Daphnel’s high walls, the sunset was particularly beautiful. Shades of pink and orange, intertwined at the horizon, glimmering on the river. Dimitri was sitting there, peacefully watching the sun descend behind the tall mountains that separated Fodlan from Almyra. Claude was sitting next to him, his legs swaying in tune to a fast beat in the air. He needed the movement, to keep his mind focus, he told Dimitri who had been googling him strangely moments prior.

‘I have to go back to Almyra soon.’

Dimitri turned to watch him, but the other was not watching him. His attention was focused on the mountains, on his homeland. The prince could not decipher his expression. He seemed… Sad? Melancholic? Nostalgic?

‘I thought you were going to stay in Fodlan now. Is that not what you told me?’

‘That’s what I thought. But my father wants me back home. Princely duties I bet.’

The Almyrian sighed. His companion put a soothing hand on his shoulder.

‘Are you not happy to go back to Almyra?’

‘No.’, his answer was prompt and loud. He did not think before answering, something that people – that Dimitri – did not associate with him until just now. ‘I trust you, so I guess I can tell you now. My parents decided to send me here to Daphnel because… there has been some trouble in Almyra. I mean, Almyra was never that much of a safe place, it’s filled with wyverns, and we clash forces with the Leicester Alliance pretty often for all I know, but now the people themselves are rioting. It’s utter chaos. Albeit why my parents sent me here, to an old acquaintance’s.’

‘I see. I am saddened to hear it. It must be awful, for you as well as your people. You all must suffer so much from the consequences of war and rebellion. But, is it really safe for you now?’

‘Dad seems to think so. My place is not in Fodlan anyway, there is nothing for me here.’

‘There is me, Claude! I am your bound to Fodlan, remember?’

The boy chuckled light-heartedly. ‘True, how could I forget the most important person in my life right now.’

Dimitri smiled at him. _Most important person in his life_. It sounded right, _so_ right in his mind. But at the same time, when for an instant his reason controlled him and not his feelings, he could not help but wonder why. Was he really that lonely that Dimitri was so dear to him, above his parents, Nader or any other kids whom Claude saw more regularly? Or was it that Dimitri was special to him as well? Fate brought them together so many times, so Dimitri could believe that they were meant to be together, that they were special to each other.

Their moment of tenderness was cut short, when Nader appeared out of a tower on their right. His face lit up when he saw Claude, and walked towards the pair, his huge grin plastered on his face.

‘Hey, there you are boy! Judith’s been looking for you, it’s time for your bath apparently. So, hop hop, go on!’

Claude glanced one last time at Dimitri, a genuine smile on his lips, before turning around and dashing towards the tower. Nader stayed by Dimitri, watching the sunset with him.

‘I hope that boy isn’t bothering you much, your Highness. He can be a handful sometimes. If he causes any trouble, don’t mind telling me, I’ll challenge him to a fistfight in your honor!’

Dimitri did not know whenever of not Nader was being serious; it was hard to tell when he always had such a bright beam to offer. He was torn between being worried about what kind of education Almyrian kids received or laughing at his joke.

‘He does not bother me, do not fret. I find him rather calm lately, actually.’

‘Ah, well, I guess he doesn’t want to leave. He told me he loved spending time with you lot, and that he’ll miss you. Poor kid doesn’t have that many friends back home.’

‘Why is that? He always seems to cheerful, surely he made some friends?’

‘Not really, your Highness. It’s really not my business, not really, I’m just his combat tutor after all, but… He’s different from the kids of Almyra. He comes from a different background, if you will. You met the Queen, right? You must have noticed how pale she was compared to her court.’

Thinking back on it, Dimitri could distinctively remember that. Her _pale_ hands patting his hair, her _pale _face lighting up with a mischievous smirk when she heard of her son’s pranks on Faerghus lords’ children, her _light blonde_ hair tightly put in a bun, showing off small pinkish scars on her forehead and neck.

‘Well, rumor has it she’s from Fodlan. and Almyrians don’t react too good to foreigners. Quite like in Fodlan, actually. There has been attempts of her life, and on his as well.’

The young price’s heart skipped a beat. His mind slowly processed Nader’s words, chills running down his spin. _Assassination attempts_? The mere thought of losing Claude brought tears to his eyes.

‘We can welcome him in Faerghus! He can stay and live there! So he won’t fear for his life!’

‘I’m afraid it isn’t that easy, my liege. Fodlan isn’t exactly that welcoming to him neither. And he’s to be the next king of Almyra and must be trained as such. But it’s nice of you to propose hospitality. Now, I’ll leave you to it, ok? Judith is going to miss me terribly. She just can’t get enough of me, eh?’

His loud laugh echoed in the evening, before Dimitri was left alone, in the oppressing silence, **prisoner of his worries and dark thoughts**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, holding myself at gunpoint: you need the drama, so write it
> 
> anyway, i'm thinking back on claude's childhood and... gosh i'm so emo, intsys leave him alone, leave my children alone


	10. apple of discord

_Derdriu, 1174_

Dimitri now had a dozen year of experience behind him. Enough for him to learn how to rule a kingdom, his dad had judged. And what better opportunity to learn about diplomacy, than to bring him to a negotiations roundtable in the Alliance’s capital. Derdriu was sublime, with its numerous fountains, tall ornated walls, and colorful mosaics. The accents of white and blue mixed gently with the green parks. The poets’ capital, the Kingdom used to call it, and Dimitri could see why. It was ethereal, and favorable to the production of arts and crafts. The old Duke Riegan was known for being nothing but enthusiastic about art, and deeply encouraged his citizens to learn a creative craft, as well as war arts.

The Derdriu’s place was as breathtaking as its city, with its high marble walls, covered in baby blue mosaics that told the tale of the Alliance’s independence from the Kingdom. Blue tesserae people drew their bows high in the sky, while a dark shade of blue mounted their horses to charge. Dimitri heard of the Crescent Moon War before, and he could tell that this representation was mere fiction, art. The real battle was bloody and played as much on the battlefield than in the court.

When they arrived in the oval court, it was one of Duke Riegan’s servant that was waiting for them, and not the Duke himself. The servant bowed, and greeted them in the name of his master, before driving them to the council room, in the eastern wing of the palace. It was a huge room, decorated with the different banners of the several Dukes, Counts, Kings that happened to be present to discuss Fodlan’s Throat. The negotiations had already started, or so it seemed. Grown and young men were screaming and gesticulating, any coherent thought drown in the chaos, while younger people – their children or heirs – were slowly gathering in a corner to better talk between them. Dimitri saw his father sigh and point him to corner where all the young nobles had gathered, a silent permission to eclipse from the discord.

As eager as Dimitri was to learn about the fine art of negotiation, he was terribly uncomfortable to debate in such atmosphere. Carefully, he made his way to the younglings’ corner. The young nobles were wearing bright colored clothes, which contrasted with the white tiles of the room. Two maidens were chatting enthusiastically while the others stood there silently, playing with their adornments or watching the exterior through the window.

‘Hey, wouldn’t it be better if we joined the others? They left for the dinning hall a longtime ago, it would be more peaceful than this farmyard. Where are we, in Almyra?’, asked one of the chatting maidens. Her counterpart snickered and nodded. All the other followed the two, not finding anything better to do.

Surprisingly enough, they did not get lost and found the dinning hall rather easily. The girls seemed to know the palace, which would be understandable if their parents were lords. Even if the Alliance had five powerful and regal lords, every other was conveyed to negotiations roundtables, if not to hear what proposition would be upheld, then to propose their own, with the support of a higher noble.

A group of four noble were already sitting at a table, cheerfully conversing and laughing. The tallest figure was a purple-haired boy, who stood upright. He radiated aristocratic values and behavior. Everything about him was meticulously thought and assembled to be as noble as he could. From his raised hand to his light chuckles whenever the others laughed. He had his back facing Dimitri, but the Faerghusian noble would almost distinctively see the controlled, thin smile on his face and slightly lidded eyes shining with a sort of unconscious superiority. He looked like the Faerghusian noble in all point.

Next to him was a petite white-haired girl, who was fervently speaking with rapid gestures. She seemed to be the one animating the conversation – a serious one – at that, and to get angry whenever her audience thought a gesture he made or a comment she added was funny. For her young age, she already seemed mature and wise. Were those the signs of a protected and reclused childhood? Dimitri was dying to meet her and to get to know her. They were similar, somehow, he thought.

Facing her was a buff pink-haired girl. If the purple-haired boy’s appearance was thought to scream nobility, her exterior was made to seduce. Her hair was neatly brought in a ponytail, which framed her delicate face gracefully. She wore makeup, a distinguished alliance of colors, that matched her flawless dress. She had a permanent smile on her face, translation of soft lips and a voluptuous demeanor. She was loud, attention-seeking in her very move, which were carefully calculated to bring the spotlight on her.

She was holding a young man’s hand, Dimitri remarked. Brown skin glimmering in the sun, emerald eyes soft with genuine love and affection, easy smile on rosy lips, a messy braid framing an already mature face. _Him_. The boy he thought about in his sleep and in his idyllic moments. Brought to him by fate again, only for the boy of his affection not to see him. Claude was absorbed in his conversation, his friends, _his girlfriend_, not even acknowledging his surroundings. A sign of security. A sign that Claude never had in Faerghus – with Dimitri –, but that he learned in Derdriu. A profound sadness permeated though his mind. Had he forgotten him? 

Dimitri slowly drew back from the group and sat on a table, far from them. He needed to be alone. To reflect. Had Claude truly discarded him for new friends? Dimitri did not even see the pin he offered him and that he swore to wear every day, where the prince proudly wore it on his chest, exhibiting his love to the world. His heart ached. He felt hurt, and in this instant, he felt nothing but hatred for Claude. It was a swift, piercing hatred. But could he really call this hatred? He still wanted to be with Claude more than anything, but the mere thought of the boy sent sadness and jolts of aggressivity down his spin.

_Jealousy_. **It was jealousy that made him its captive**.

He was jealous of the girl who held Claude’s hand, of the boy who was facing him and conversing with him of the petite girl who had his whole attention. He felt a sob forming in his throat, thinking about what he did not have.

His only wish now was to go home and see Edelgard, to tell her of his misery, and to forget Claude with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry school has been dawing ALL my attention and free time, so publishing won't be regular or linear anymore, rip
> 
> anyway,,,, every fic needs angst. we're going on a roll people !!!! oops !!!!


	11. revenge, forgiveness, justice

_Fhirdiad, 1176_

_Empty_. He just felt empty. Not even sad or broken. Just empty.

He did not have any tears left, he let them all out the previous days, alternating between Sylvain and Ingrid’s comforting embraces. All Dimitri could feel was the obnoxious hollowness that came with bereavement. He did not even have the force or the will to attend his parents’ public funeral, to Rodrigue’s despair.

Lying in bed, Dimitri blankly stared at his ceiling, barely noticing the gilded adornments, picturing lions and eagles fighting, watched over by deers, in a large, dark forest like battlefield. His ajar window let the funerary hymns echo, grave reminder of his loneliness. It made his head pound and hurt, despite the beauty of this lacrimosa. He could not bear to hear the people’s last lament before their doom, for he was too young to ascend and his consorts, although trustworthy, never shared his father’s ideals of justice, and surely would not share his.

_Justice_. What did it mean for him, in that instant? Revenge. Tribute. Death. death to his enemies, those who killed his people, to avenge their soul, so that they can have their tribute and rest in peace. So that he did not have to feel their judging eyes on him again. **So that he can be free from his duty**.

There was a muffled knock on the door, as if the person knocking was afraid to disturb him.

‘Your Highness, there is a boy wishing to see you.’

Dimitri recognized Dedue’s voice. That poor boy was one of the sole survivors of the genocide of the Duscurian people. Dimitri did not feel like ignoring him, not now. He knew Dedue was grieving too, and although he was now a slave, he was still human, and Dimitri could never hurt him.

‘Let him in.’, he managed to order in a quiet voice.

On his command the door opened, and he heard a faint thank you, before feeling the presence approach him, carefully, as if Dimitri was just a small animal. The boy stayed quiet, and so did his host. Dimitri did not even bother looking at him, he was not worth his interest.

‘Dimitri, I’m sorry. I cannot even begin to imagine what you’re going through, but you must get back on your feet and be there for your people. They’re asking for you. They need you.’

When Dimitri rose and stared at the boy, he fell on a familiar silhouette, but whose expression was foreign. His face was twisted in a genuine concerned frown, lips holding back another pitiful remark. He still looked like that boy from Derdriu, although his attire was much more proper, with neatly slicked back hair and black clothes. _So he came for the funerals_.

_Not for me._

How dared he come here, step into his intimacy to try to dictate his behavior? How dared he pretend he was better? How dared he pretend he knew how Dimitri should live? How dared he pretend he cared?

Dimitri felt rage slowly build in the pit of his stomach. Was it the view of that boy that made him boil, or was he already angry before? But the more he stared at Claude, the more he felt disgusted and irate.

‘Did you come to state the obvious? If so, get out. Your face makes me sick.’

Silence between the two, the funerary song only shaving them from silence. The ancient words praying for forgiveness and rest longed in the room, faintly echoing, but never to be heard.

‘Dimitri, please tell me what’s wrong. Is it grief that speaks, or is it what you really think?’

‘It is what I believe, deep in my heart, ever since Derdriu. You could not even bother looking at us, at me, spare a minute of your attention. It was all directed to them, whoever they might have been. So do not come here and pretend you care. You do not know me. If you think you have any right to be here because I needed a friend when I was but an infant, you are wrong. You have lost all interest in my eyes.’

‘Dimitri, I swear, it was not my attention to hurt you and I-‘

‘Grand words that I do not need. Why explain the past when you could look ahead? I have resigned myself to the fate I drew for myself, and I do not see you in it.’

‘Let me help you, Dimitri. Let me be there. I know you’re not genuine, you’re just hurt, so talk to me.’

‘Shut it! I do not need you. Get out.’

Claude watched him, his concern fading into some sort of sadness, hurt. His eyes glimmered softly in the daylight, devoid of any expression Dimitri ever saw him arbor.

‘Then I will. But I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, and to one day, see me as your friend again. I see you as so much more than that, and I’ll wait for you. I still feel connected to you, and the pin I’m wearing even now is proof. Please take care, Dima. I hope to see you again.’

And on that, the Almyrian prince left, leaving behind him to smell of nostalgia. For a minute, Dimitri’s heart softened, and as if only now realizing what he just said, he shed a single tear that soon transformed into a sob. He imagined himself chasing after Claude and apologizing because he’s been so blinded by hatred and angriness for the past years that he never considered how he felt. But his feet lacked the force to move, and his will soon drowned any sadness he could have felt into a silent, faint hatred.

Despite the sadness he felt deep down, Justice always found her way back to him and enchanted him into only worshipping her in all her form.

He needed to be a blank person, moving according to his heart’s desire, to become a copy of the boy he once were to avenge his father, to become the prince his people needed to launch war against all of Fodlan and even the Goddess if he needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, sick and sad after writing this chapter: please accept the claumitri angst
> 
> on another note, its getting better from now on so uwu fINALLY
> 
> also im so v sorry for the time it took me to get to work, ive been sick and school is destroying my freetime + i started the black eagle route again so sIGH
> 
> anyway, lots of love, i hope u enjoy this chapter, even if it's messy (its dimitri after all)


	12. sincerest affection

_Fhirdiad, 1179_

The fire was gently crackling in the chimney, lulling the room in a comfortable warmness. The crown prince was sitting in a royal blue chair, lazily reading a romance novel. He did not enjoy the story much, for he could not proceed the motivations of the protagonists, understand their actions, and feel kindness towards them. But boredom was weighting him, and he needed a distraction. Dedue was sitting on the carpet at his feet, reading as well. It would be easy to draw him out of his moment and start a conversation with him, but Dimitri did not feel like talking. Not today at least. His day has been exhausting, between training with Felix and Ingrid, having some tea with Sylvain and hark him talk about his novel ‘male friends’, share royal duties with the King Regent Rodrigue, and attend a festival in honor of the birth of the Kingdom, which was stern and grey. Stern and grey, everything Dimitri hated, for it was the opposite of who his heart longed for, and the description of the person he wanted to see burn in the pits of hell. He closed his book, suddenly feeling nauseous and uneasy. He stayed sited, watching the fire slowly die.

A strong knock on the door captured his attention, and he commanded the other to enter. Rodrigue stood at the threshold, in his duty clothing, looking drained despite the magnificence of his costume.

‘Prince Dimitri, pardon me to disturb you so late,’ he spoke, ‘but a letter from the Alliance arrived, and it might interest you.’

‘Another of those courtship letters?’ Dimitri meant to pass it as a joke, but his tone was flat, betraying his subconscious anxiety if it were to be the case. Rodrigue did not laugh.

‘Nothing of the like, my prince. As you may know, the Alliance was in turmoil ever since Grand Duke Riegan’s son died on the battlefield against Almyrian troops. He had no other living heir, his daughter having disappeared, but it seems like a new heir magically appeared. He was officially recognized as such in front of the Alliance. That heir appears to be your friend lord Claude von Riegan, soon to be Grand Duke of the Alliance.’

Dimitri felt heartache permeate him at the motion of Claude’s name. It has been years since he last spoke to him, and although his face was faint in his consumed memory, his heart did not forget the affection he had for him and the nostalgia of feeling his hand in his. It was foolish, he was no protagonist of those romance novels he read, nor on of the star-crossed lovers of plays. He should have forgotten Claude.

Rodrigue seemed to notice the subtle change in his prince stance, for he smiled gently at him. Dimitri could tell by that smirk that Rodrigue knew of the love his heart bore for the lord, and how dearly he estimated him.

‘My cabinet and myself proposed that you shall write him a letter to congratulate him and reinforce friendly ties with the Alliance. You have already won his affections when you were both young boys, but it is important for your future Kingdom that you continue to do so in adulthood, as to strengthen the ties we have with the Alliance. They are new and vigorous, and we cannot permit any aggressivity, not with the Empire being more and more closed off. I do hope you understand what I mean to tell you. I trust that your political lessons taught you everything there is to know of our situation.’

‘Yes lord Rodrigue. I thank you. I understand our situation and will happily write to Claude, as sovereign prince first, but with all the devotion of a close friend.’

Rodrigue bowed slightly and proudly looked over at Dimitri. His confidence in his prince was absolute, and never did he doubt his ability to reign, ever during his passing despair when his father died. How quickly the pup had regained his calm and composed nature was a wonder to him.

‘Very well, my prince. Dedue, lad, please join me in the butler quarters, I shall assign your new missions to you.’

Dedue stood up, looking at his lord for approval. Despite his neutral expression, Dimitri could see the faint wariness in his eyes. Dedue was the only person he ever spoke to about how he felt towards Claude, how he saw him as both an enemy, a haunting figure graving for vengeance just as his father was, a friend and a lover. Dimitri could tell that Dedue was silently asking him if he would be fine writing to the man after such long years, and if he could bear to be alone, lost in his thoughts, even just for a moment. Dimitri could not tell for certain if the haunting figures of his past would not come to haunt him, if he would be alright and if his feelings would not overwhelm him, but he felt that, to be true to Claude, he needed to be alone, free from the pressure of his material peers. He nodded, and on that, Dedue followed Rodrigue outside.

Dimitri retrieved his most beautiful quill and ink, sitting himself at his desk. The paper lay blank on the wooden table, aching for words and confessions. But where to start? His feelings were conflicted, contradictory, chaotic in his mind. He felt his whole body hurt. He allowed himself a deep breath, and to picture Claude’s face in his mind. He wondered what he would look like, at eighteen. Not a young boy anymore, not fully a man. He imagined his jaw sharp, sculpted by the divine architect, circling fine traits and a perky nose. He pictured his messy dark brown hair, curled short, braided in fine braids perhaps, like he used to style it when they were youngers. In his mind, he would wear his pin in his hair, disclosing it to the world, letting Dimitri alone strip him of it when he passed his hands in his hair.

Dimitri felt soft, tender. Animosity left him, and for the first time in ages, he was alone in the room, safe for Claude’s face smiling at him. He plucked the quill in the ink, and wrote. He wrote dutifully, congratulating him for being appointed as the new Riegan heir, and hoping that their two states would conserve friendly links. But controlled by his affections, he then wrote for himself. He wrote tender words of friendships, and apologies. He sought forgiveness for everything he did to him, from unleashing his anger on him, to ever daring to lay eyes on him in ungodly fashion. A confession. Such was the letter. He confessed his undying love in ink, bearing his soul to the man he hoped would return his spontaneous feelings. It felt indecent to expose himself in a formal letter that could be read by Claude’s advisors, but so be it. He was too drown in his own chutzpah. He continued to write his love in poetic letters, to admit his guilty feelings, shameful affection to a man that was currently of higher status than him. With vigour, he wrote six pages, of which only two were allowed to official duties and sentiments.

_‘I hope you find it in your heart to answer me and to disclose yourself to me too. You do not have to accept the feelings I harbour towards for such a long time, considering how rude I was the last time we spoke as children. But I cannot go on to live without confessing to you, my dear. At least, consider me as your friend, or if your heart desires so, of at least a person who do not grow any ill will towards you anymore, free of the foolishness of teenagerhood. If you wish to write to me again, please direct your letter to Garreg Mach Monastery, for I will be studying here, waiting for my throne and to see you again in better dispositions. _

_Please accept my sincerest affection, my friend and love,_

_Yours, _

_Crown prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and your devoted servant.’_

And in the secret of all advices, Dimitri sent his genuine letter, exposing himself to history and the universe and the gods and his dearest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back lads and dimitri is as SOFT as ever !!! bye angst, please welcome dorky teens in love and hormones :o
> 
> anyway sorry for the LONG delay, school school school.......... it's k!lling me softly........ 
> 
> also i had a recuring theme of freedom/being prisoner of smth and its slowly vanishing, so be it

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on twitter https://twitter.com/cIaurenz (im the claurenz nation president ok)


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